


The colder the snow, the greener the spring.

by muzivitch



Category: Watchmen (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-31
Updated: 2009-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-18 10:25:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muzivitch/pseuds/muzivitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>From a prompt from <a href="http://flyingrat42.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://flyingrat42.livejournal.com/"><b>flyingrat42</b></a>. Post-Karnak.</p>
    </blockquote>





	The colder the snow, the greener the spring.

**Author's Note:**

> From a prompt from [](http://flyingrat42.livejournal.com/profile)[**flyingrat42**](http://flyingrat42.livejournal.com/). Post-Karnak.

_**[Fic] The colder the snow, the greener the spring. | Watchmen, VeidtOwl. G.**_  
Title: The colder the snow, the greener the spring.  
Author: Muzy  
Series: Watchmen  
Pairing: Adrian Veidt/Dan Dreiberg  
Rating: G  
Length: 736 words  
Notes: From a prompt from [](http://flyingrat42.livejournal.com/profile)[**flyingrat42**](http://flyingrat42.livejournal.com/). Post-Karnak.

It's a hard winter this year, Dan thinks, his back bowing against the bitter wind as sharp needles of ice hit his skin. Days of subzero temperatures, snow that falls for hours upon hours, ice storms that grip the city, winds that howl across Manhattan relentlessly, rattling windows and pushing pedestrians against the cold concrete of the buildings. And November 2nd, of course; there's still the aftermath of that. The rebuilding has already begun, and it's going quickly, all things considered. He doesn't know how they're doing it - how Adrian's doing it - but even in this bitter weather, in storms that has every other construction project from Maine to Ohio at at complete standstill, New York's are growing, rising out of the ashes only a month after they first fell. Even Laurie, he thinks, has _reluctantly_ admitted that Adrian's building something good out of this, and he's managing it faster and better than anyone else on earth would have, in his place.

Even so, she would not approve of what he's doing. What he's been doing for weeks now.

The secretary knows him now, knows him well enough that she just flashes dimples at him and waves him in, but Adrian greets him the same way he did back in October - with a wide, delighted smile and a tight hug. "Dan," he says, as if they haven't seen each other for months (when in truth he's been here nearly every day), "it's good to see you." Today, Dan thinks, the smile is so tight that he half-expects it to shatter on Adrian's face. His arms clench so tightly around him that Dan almost feels the air explode out of his lungs, and there's a note in his voice, an almost-crack. It's a bad day. A lot of them are.

He's not even sure why he noticed, to be honest. It was weeks ago, some evening program, and he and Laurie were on the couch watching it, letting their takeout grow cold as the interviewer spoke to the Hero of New York - he said it like that, too, in capitals so clear that you could hear them. Laurie was stiff and still on the couch, her dark eyes burning like coals in her pale face, and at first, he was the same way, anger roaring through his ears anew just as if he were back at Karnak again. Then details started to penetrate, slowly. Adrian was always pale, but he was a shade or two _too_ pale. His smile was just as certain and charming as it had ever been, but there was a forced quality to it. His always slender frame was too much so.

Worry started to overwhelm the anger, which was sort of ridiculous, when you thought about it; he and Adrian hadn't been close friends for nearly ten years, and when it came down to it, he wasn't sure they'd ever really been in the first place. But the concern wouldn't go away, and a few days later he'd broken down and gone to his office, and he'd kept at it - almost every day - until Adrian's shell broke down too.

The fact that the shell cracked around him at all, Dan thinks, let alone so _quickly_ \- that was testement to how far Adrian'd already pushed himself. God knows how far he would have pushed if someone hadn't started pushing back.

His arms tighten around Adrian, and he breathes in, smelling expensive cologne, the clean scent of soap and the slightest tinge of panic. "Bad one?" he whispers, his hands sliding over the lavender silk of Adrian's shirt as the other man leans into him. There's a moment of stillness, and then he feels Adrian's head nod against his shoulder.

"It'll get better," Dan says.

Adrian laughs, a soft explosion of breath against the heavy wool of Dan's coat. "Sometimes I'm not sure," he says.

"It will," Dan says, and his voice is certain. That's the strange part, he thinks; he _is_ certain that the world will get better, that it's _already_ better. After weeks of standing as Adrian Veidt's sole support, his doubt has started to melt away. He still hates November 2nd, he still despises what Adrian chose to do, and he thinks he always will. It was a terrible, terrifying thing.

But he can't deny its effect. He can't let Adrian deny it either.


End file.
